Stargate: Walking Dead
by AmigoButze
Summary: Yes, this is exactly what it sounds like. The characters of Stargate SG-1 in the world of The Walking Dead. Check A/N in chapter one for more details.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello guys! Right now I'm very nervous. This is the very first time that I actually publish something that I have written. Also, English is not my native tongue but personally, I think my usage of the English language is not that bad. But if I am mistaken, please feel free to tell me so.

Now to the story. In Germany we just saw the fourth season of The Walking Dead and while I sat on my couch and tried not to chew on my fingernails I got this idea, that Jack O'Neill would fit really well in this show. I mean, he is a born survivor!  
>So I thought a little more about it and now, two weeks later, I have pretty much figured out the whole plot. Now it just needs to be written. This being said, I guess it is a given that this story is AU. Please note that in my story, there is no stargate, no stargate command and therefore no sg-1. That means that original characters will show up, but not with their usual roles, military positions, personal histories and relationships. I don't own them, I just borrow them to play.<p>

As for the timeline: Since the zombie apocalypse in Walking Dead started in 2010, this story is located in that time too. This means that I can't use the birthdates of the show. So in this story, for example, O'Neill is not in his sixties but in late thirties and Carter is about 30.  
>For this story I need him to be absolutely fit and her to have an amount of experience that comes with the years of military service, hence the reduced difference in the years between them.<br>While I have already mentioned these two, yes I will pair them, because really…nothing else makes sense. But it takes its time for them to lip lock, because those nasty Walkers will demand a lot of their time. If you don't like this pairing, then you should maybe not read this story.

Now I think there is just one more thing to say: If you already know the Walking Dead you are familiar with the gore and horror that this show provides. Be warned that I want to try to keep that up in this story. So if you don't like exact description of violence and various body parts being smashed and hacked or bitten off, then don't read this. This story will definitely be rated MA.

I know this was a rather long A/N, but since it's my first time I hope you will forgive me. Here come the first two chapters that are already finished and I sincerely hope you will like it.

Have fun!

Chapter 1: Breakfast News

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Like this, or similar, her mothers lecture always sounded in the morning, while she made a show of looking at her sternly over the top of her newspaper. Every now an then she also sprinkled her speech with some medical terms or definitions on how the human body needed the right nutrition to support her brain in the almost always dull hours spent in school. And sometimes, like the good daughter that she is, Cassie Fraiser lets herself be convinced to eat at least a banana or a yoghurt. But more than once the young girl decides to follow her rebellious streak, as it is her job as teenager, refuses any kind of solid food and argues that a cup of coffee is more than enough. 

This every morning game between them is a fixed part of their routine and has meanwhile grown into a loved characteristic of their mother and daughter relationship. It is also a relict of a time when the two of them were still getting used to the idea of being mother and daughter and trying to deal with their respective individualities.  
>But this morning everything was different, not because mother and daughter had grown apart, but because the world they knew had changed in the short span of a night. <p>

A cup of fresh coffee stood forgotten on the kitchen table while Cassie used the remote to turn up the volume on the television.  
>The screen showed the anchorman of canal 12, who desperately tried to keep up with all the breaking news being transmitted on the teleprompter but failing miserably, as his strained voice started to flounder. In the background you could see external shots from the streets of Washington D.C., where people seemed to move aimlessly and in a chaotic haste through the city. A reporter on side tried to halt people to get a comment from them, but only a skinny man holding a piece of cardboard with verses from the bible on it took pity and mumbled something about the apocalypse.<p>

The anchorman now welcomed a man wearing a white lab coat and introduced him as an expert in virology. Cassie listened with growing confusion to the statements of the expert and his explanation on the crazy actions people all over the state displayed. You didn't need a doctor as mother to notice that the experts words were erratic and vague. A bad feeling was creeping up in her bones as the tv next showed pictures of a gagged man howling and hissing while being hauled into an ambulance.

Just as the tv reports started to repeat her mother joined her in the kitchen and turned off the tube with an annoyed growl.  
>"Cassandra, why are you listening to this? It's pure scaremongering." Janet Fraiser told her daughter and helped herself with a yoghurt out of the fridge, while looking reproachfully at her.<br>"But mom, doesn't this seem strange to you?"  
>"Darling, it is actually normal for people to engage in other peoples hysteria and show irrational behavior."<br>Her mother had this lecturing tone again, causing Cassie to roll her eyes irritated.  
>"Does this hysteria also animate people to attack their neighbors?"<br>Although it was not officially confirmed, there were many rumors about persons assaulting others like wild animals. Those who claimed to have seen this live, even talked about people trying to bite or claw at each other.  
>"Some drugs are known to cause this kind of aggressive behavior. It could also be a chemical spill. Many chemicals cause severe hallucinations. " Her mother tried to reason.<br>Cassie knew she just wanted to soothe her, to protect her. But her mothers evasive words only triggered the contrary reaction and she shot her a look that clearly said: _I know that you know that this is not the reason_.  
>Janet sighed in understanding as she realized that she could not fool her bright and perceptive daughter.<br>"Please don't worry about it. Our healthcare system is among the best of the world. Whatever this is, I'm sure our experts will be able to keep this under medical supervision."  
>It was meant as a reassuring comment, but one look at Cassys face and she knew it was for naught. <p>

The blow of a horn announced the arrival of the school bus, effectively ending the heavy conversation.  
>"Come on, time for school." Janet said, trying to sound unconcerned, but failing as the words came out in a choking sound.<p>

„Maybe I could come with you today?"  
>Cassies faint and insecure question was almost to much as Janet tried to fight of the guilty conscience upon her next words. But from her own experience in such situations, she knew that it was important to maintain a certain amount of normalcy and routine.<br>"I'm sorry, but I think it would be the best for you to go to school. Meet your friends and try not to worry so much." She advised.  
>For a moment it seemed that the girl wanted to say something in return, but then she shouldered her schoolbag dutifully and sighed a quiet <em> okay <em>in response.  
>With a caring arm put around her daughters shoulder she walked her to the door and watched her getting into the school bus. <p>

If Cassie Fraiser would have known that this was her last glimpse on the house she called home, she would not just have taken her seat in the bus. She would have run to hug her mother like live depended on it and never let go. Or she may have been in an hurry to get this picture from her friends and herself, showing five broadly grinning girls in pajamas and their brightly colored toenails. Memories of loved ones and irreplaceable time spend together.  
>But she did not knew and she did not even foresee what would happen in the short span of the next 48 hours. How could she? No one did. It hit them all unexpected.<br>So she simply took her usual place in the bus and waved a chaste goodbye to her mother, her home and the life she knew.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: a not so normal morning

When Janet Fraiser arrived at work, approximately one hour after sending her daughter to school, she was delighted to see that the emerging panic had not jet found its way into the Air Force Academy Hospital. Both, military and civilian personnel, were used to extraordinary and rather threatening situations. More important, they were used to work calmly and professionally through a crisis, without giving away into fear or helplessness. If you once saw the results of bullets boring its way into the body of a screaming and jerking human or the traumatizing outcome that war had on once proud soldiers, now reduced to sobbing men, you had no other choice than to develop a high tolerance to shocking pictures.

So the calm and practiced professionalism her team displayed when a national guard unit came in with two injured team members was no wonder, but a result of a highly trained medical staff working almost perfectly together. Hand in hand they tried to save the two men's lives.

Specialist Miller had an ugly looking shot wound on his shoulder. Fortunately, his attacker must have been a rather bad shot. Although the torn flesh looked ragged, her nearer inspection showed that it was just a surficial trauma. Janet ably cut away the destroyed flesh, cleaned the wound and attended it with a soothing ointment. This would really hurt a few days, but not leave more back than a scar.

Private first class Monroe on the other hand, didn't get away that lucky. His body suffered from three wounds and his bloodied uniform was a good indicator on how much blood was already lost.  
>It was still unclear how and especially who hat attacked them. Apparently someone had ran amok and shot them from a hideout, while they were carrying out their order to close off a neighborhood.<br>But his was not her business right now, this man needed emergency surgery.

Clad in blue surgical gowns and a sharp scalpel in hand, Fraiser cut through Monroe's skin to expose the inner organs, where she expected the most severe traumata's. Her worst fear seemed confirmed.  
>Monroe' abdomen was filled with blood, making it almost impossible to locate the origin of the blood flow. The floor was soon covered in bloodied towels and gauze as the mans chance of recovery slowly turned from bad to worse. He was loosing so much blood, too much. Almost two hours later Janet sighed sadly as she peeled of the disposal gloves. She could see sergeant Daniels, the units leader, sitting forlornly on his examination bed in the emergency room, awaiting news on his team members and friends.<p>

She hated these talks. Delivering the bad news of someone's death was part of being a doctor and since working for the air force she had her fair share of seeing people die under her hands, but it never got easier. She never got used to it, never got accustomed to loosing good men and women. Bracing herself for sergeant Daniels grief and self blame, she quickly changed into clean scrubs. He didn't need to see his friends blood, a sign of imminent death. Upon hearing her approaching steps his head shot up with an expectant look. He himself had gotten away with nothing more than a few scratches and a sprained ankle. His facial muscles worked hard trying to maintain a stoic appearance while he came to terms with sitting here almost unharmed, when in the next room his friend was loosing the fight against death.  
>"I'll stay with him." He said and slowly walked to Monroe's bedside, shaky steps betraying his composed appearing body language.<p>

Even as the mood in the emergency room changed to a somewhat more calm atmosphere, nurses and other medical staff still kept a concerned eye on private first class Monroe an his CO, awaiting the inescapable.  
>The shrill sound of the phone startled everyone mistaking it for the flat beep of the heart rate monitor. But it was just Harriman, asking Janet to General Hammonds office immediately.<p>

Thinking that this was about the health status of the national guard unit, Janet quickly changed into her uniform and covered the way to the head physicians office.  
>The General waved her in instantly, while he seemed to be in a deep discussion with two men in black suits sitting in the visitor chairs. That sort of black suit, that screamed government.<p>

She announced her presence with a loud harrumph, causing the two black clad men to turn their heads. For a moment no one moved, then the older one gave his colleague a pat on his shoulder. His answer was to roll his eyes scowling, but he still cleared his chair for her and moved to lean irritated on the closed door, casually locking everyone else outside the office out.  
>Janet pretended not to be confused by the presence of the unknown men and instead concentrated on the general.<p>

"You wanted to see me, General Hammond."  
>"That's right, Major. How are you newest patients?" he answered immediately, also ignoring the two men as if they were rude intruders in his territory.<br>"Specialist Millers injury's are superficial. He should be fit for light duty in about a week. Private First Class Monroe though…" she sighed sadly "…I'm afraid we have to prepare for the worst."  
>"The rest of the team?" Hammonds voice couldn't conceal his shock at losing a man, although he straightened up in his chair to his full height, as if not to appear weak in the eyes of the other two men.<br>"Sergeant Daniels and private Tyler are both well…physically speaking. How well they are taking the outcome of their mission otherwise is still unclear. I would recommend a meeting with Dr. MacKenzie for both of them." She completed her report and observed her CO intently.

If general Hammond was anything, than protective and caring toward all officers and soldiers coming through his hospitals doors needing medical help. He always took it to heard when one of them was hurt, or even worse, killed in the line of duty and he never ran away from personal condolences to those left behind. But as she stared at his petrified face, her gut feeling told her that there was more weighting down on his shoulders than those men's unsuccessful mission.

Her own attention now relocated back to the two unknown potential government men. One of them still blocking the door, while the man sitting beside her gave the general a hard stare, before his surprisingly shrill voice spoke to them.  
>"General Hammond, we don't have all day."<br>"Our arrival is expected in one hour." The guy from the door added harshly.  
>Janet found their burning gazes fixed on her and tried not to fidget under the uncomfortable attention.<br>"Sir, what's going on?" She turned, seeking help from the general. He was uncharacteristicly quiet as he handed her a plain white envelope.  
>"Sir?"<br>"These are your new orders. You are being transferred."  
>"What?!"<br>She tore the envelope open flabbergasted and stared at the printed words.

She was really being transferred. With immediate effect she was no longer head of the emergency room at the Air Force Academy Hospital, but part of an emergency team consisting of doctors and scientists under the direction of the department of health and human services. Which in reality was just a trivializing name for disease control. Again she skimmed trough her new orders. They had all necessary signatures and seals, making them cast iron proof. She had to leave, most likely with these two mysterious men.  
>"What the hell does that mean?"<br>The angry words were directed at the quiet man beside her, but it was his sidekick who answered.  
>"It means that you are an air force officer and that your country needs your work somewhere else. So pack up." he retorted with absolute inept casualness, given the situation.<p>

"And I think that you are not an air force officer, hence you're not in the position to give me orders. Besides… I can't just leave my staff behind like that." The last part of her words came out like a plea and were directed at the general, but the regret in his face showed defeat.  
>"I'm sorry Janet, but my hands are tied. This is issued from the very top." He added with a glance at the phone on his desk.<br>Still not grasping what was going on, Janet responded with stubbornness, folding her arms in a gesture that clearly showed off how angry she was.  
>"Are there more time-killing questions to come, or are you actually willing to follow your orders now?" the man behind her rudely interrupted her staring holes into smooth wood of Hammonds desk.<br>"I'm not going anywhere, until someone tells me what is going on." She grumbled, set on not giving an inch till she had all the information she wanted.

In the meantime the silent guy beside her was kneading his hands undetermined before he addressed the resolute looking woman.  
>"I guess we may have approached this situation a bit impersonal. Doctor Fraiser, my name is Matt Phillips and this is my partner Bob Palmer. We work for the department of health and human services."<br>Behind them, Palmer was rolling his eyes. He was obviously not pleased with the slow pace his colleague had set.

Although Phillips words were spoken in a calm tone and the smile he gave her seemed genuine, Janet wasn't fooled. She knew what was hidden behind the harmless and bureaucratic sounding name of the department. It suddenly made sense as her confusion was chased away by a deep certainty of impending disaster.  
>"This is about the events of the last days? What makes the people go crazy…it's a virus? An epidemic?"<br>"To be honest with you, we don't know." As Phillips admitted this, the sweat that was glistering on his forehead revealed the shame he felt about his departments displayed incompetence.  
>"That's where you come into play, Doctor. Word has spread that you have quite the knack for extraordinary diseases." Palmer offered from his position on the door, clearly enjoying that Fraiser had to turn around to answer him.<p>

"If this is your way of telling me that you need my help to do your job properly, you might want to act a little more civilized." Janet fired back, pleased with having returned some of that hostility to its source.  
>"What my partner tried to express, was that the department is loosing this fight. All of our experts are currently working on this, but up to now we still have nothing to show. You see, Doctor Fraiser, we have the highest respect for your work and hope that your knowledge about unknown disease patterns will be the key to cure this. So I ask you, in the name of the government, to accompany us."<br>Phillips almost begged while describing the current situation and for the first time since meeting the man, Janet noticed the distress in his eyes.  
>"We will force you, if we have to." Palmer added and made his words sound like a threat.<br>"Palmer!" Phillips tried to admonish his rude counterpart, but with his high-pitched voice it sounded more like a girls hiss and therefore lost all its authority.

Janet stopped the budding dispute between the two government men with a raised hand and gained herself a quiet moment to process what she just had learned. Someone with her experience and knowledge hadn't been fooled with the reassuring news coverage, even if she tried to maintain a calm demeanor for Cassies sake. But on the inside her instinct, trained through many days in military service, had already told her that a catastrophe was looming above them. These symptoms resembled nothing medical that she had ever heard of and even if she wasn't very religious or esoteric, she'd still relate the last days events rather with end-time scenarios than a disease that could be isolated and cured quickly. So maybe she should just advise Palmer an Phillips to find themselves some exorcist or sect leader promising a peacefully afterlife, while she packed a few essential things, got her daughter and than ran for life.

But this was just the frightened thought of a dedicated mother fearing for the life of her still young teenage daughter. As her military training kicked in, it shoved away all those angst and brought back the experienced air force officer that she was.  
>"Where are we going?"<br>Her new orders did not contain this information. While Janet would have preferred to work in her own familiar and well equipped lab, it was the normal procedure to gather the medial and scientific elite at some hermetically sealed place and bundle their knowledge against the forthcoming outbreak.  
>"We'll take you to Schriever Air Force Base. There you will board an osprey and flown out to Washington D.C. joining one of the departments emergency teams." Phillips explained willingly, while Janet pondered the existence of multiple emergency teams.<p>

Several teams, most likely allocated all over the states. A protective measure if something went wrong. One infected individual could be enough to erase the whole team. But if you located a number of teams at different sites, the loss of one team could be absorbed through the others.  
>This course of action was another indicator on how serious this situation was and her maternal instinct returned.<p>

"I won't go without my daughter. I want her to come with me."  
>While she got sympatric looks from Hammond and Phillips, the third man reacted with another cold remark.<br>"You still don't get it. This is a national emergency with potential to affect world population! We don't have time to chauffeur parents, uncles, daughters or beloved guinea pigs through the states. If you don't understand that…"  
>"Stop that! Palmer, wait outside." The older black clad man interrupted calm, but dominantly.<br>His younger colleague didn't look very pleased to be shut up so effectively. But he still left the office, albeit more than a little furious, if him slamming the door violently behind him was a clue for that.

"I apologize for my partners disrespectful behavior. We are all under a lot of stress. But I fear he is right. As a matter of fact, we really don't have the time or resources to pick up your daughter."  
>Sensing that the Major sitting beside him was getting ready to argue her case again, he quickly continued.<br>"But, I am sure General Hammond would be more than willing to help us out?" this was spoken out as half question, half command and the General instantly assured his help.  
>"Consider it done. I'll send out two airmen at once."<br>Hammond had already the telephone receiver in hand and gave orders to summon Cassandra Fraiser at her school loud enough for her mother to hear, when Phillips pulled out his business card.  
>"Please tell your men to contact me when Miss Fraiser arrives at Schriever. I will take her to her mother personally." He assured and sounded sincere.<p>

"Since we sorted this problem out, are you ready to go doctor Fraiser?"  
>Phillips was already out of his seat and holding the door open of her.<br>Sensing that this goodbye might not include a _see you again_, Janet sought out her COs eyes and tried to silently convey the respect and friendship she felt for him.  
>"Godspeed, Major."<br>"Good luck, General. For you and your family."  
>George Hammond, the family man, looked sorrow-stricken for a moment at the mention of his family but then his composed alter ego, the seasoned General, slid back in place as he returned her rigid salute.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: lost and found

"…and then Mr. Samson really bit this national guard guy! On his neck! Can you believe this! There was so much blood. It was so gross! And then Mrs. Samson came screaming out of the house waving paper towels and tried to wipe the blood from the ground. I tell you, she was totally nuts! Some paramedic had to sedate her." Lizzy van Dyk all but shrieked as she told her astound class the sunday events of her normally peaceful neighborhood. Although it was well known that Lizzy was not the brightest crayon in the box, one would have expected her to realize, even if it was subconscious, that her little story was not something to be proud of. But the blond girl was also not known for her keen perception. So she sat in her chair, in a room full of nervous and frightened looking students, as if it was the coolest thing ever to have a sick neighbor ripping flesh out of peoples necks.

"Well, thank you Lizzy…" Mrs. Pruitt gulped hard at her students rather graphic description of her weekend, "…but when I asked if some of you experienced something memorable lately, I didn't have that in mind. Does anyone of you have anything to contribute?"  
>The silence in the woods greeted her and she sighed worriedly. Okay, it was not a revolutionary idea to ask the students about their weekend. But given the gravely news these last days, Tabitha Pruitt had hoped to distract them a little bit. She was her teacher and therefore responsible not only for their grades, but also for their mental health.<p>

"Anyone? Anything? No?" she tried again before resigning.  
>"Okay. Than let's continue our work on this formula…if x is y then…" Tabitha was about to write said formula on the blackboard, when she heard the telltale sound of fingers snapping. The source of this sound sat in the last row and the dutiful teacher smiled approvingly at her best student. Threatening students with mathematics always worked.<p>

"Yes, Cassandra, you want to tell us about your weekend?"  
>"Err…actually, no. I wondered weather you might know something more detailed about what's going on here?"<br>Cassandras question didn't fall on deaf ears and in an instant every one of her 25 students was talking simultaneously, shouting similar questions at her and demanding to go home.  
>"Hush! Everyone!"<p>

Quieting down a herd of pubescent and therefore naturally noisy teenagers was not easy and Tabitha had to resort back to a shrill whistle and soothing gestures.  
>"I know that you are all scared and confused. We need to stay calm and trust the authorities to handle this situation. There is nothing we can to, but keep calm and maintain our routine."<br>Her well chosen words did nothing to assure the upset youngsters. They were still rattled and it wasn't helping that two air force soldiers, clad in full uniform and even wearing handguns, had chosen this particular moment to enter her classroom.

While Mrs. Pruitt eyed the soldiers disapprovingly she missed Cassie sitting straighter in her chair and examining the airmen expectant.  
>"How dare you! This is a class room and not a firing range. I want you to go, or I will call the police."<br>She tried staring the uniformed men down, but they seemed unfazed.  
>"M'am, we have orders to pick up Cassandra Fraiser." One of them answered curtly.<br>"Well, she is not a member of the military. You can't just come here and kidnap one of my students. Cassandra is underage and only her mother is allowed to…"  
>"It's okay, Mrs. Pruitt. I'll go with them." Cassandra piped up was already in the middle of packing her backpack.<br>"Your student will be save with us. Major Fraisers CO himself, General Hammond, gave the orders." The other soldier added helpfully.  
>"Still, I'm responsible and if something happens…" Tabitha tried to shove herself between Cassandra and the door, but the girl was amazingly swift and beat her to it. By the time her teacher took her first step, Cassie was already out of the door with the two airmen flanking her and leaving her dumfounded classmates behind.<p>

Sitting inside the black limousine the two airmen, Dickson and Mills as they had introduced themselves, were quick to reassure the teenage girl about the whereabouts of her mother. Although they weren't very specific about what was happening, their explanation managed to calm Cassie. At least a little bit.

When she was sure that the men wouldn't give up any more information, Cassie busied herself with watching the scenery outside the spotless windows of the limousine. The car sped along interstate 94, leading out of the city. As the amount of space between them and the city grew, the traffic volume did too. Soon enough Dickson was forced to slam on the brakes, tires squealing and leaving dark skid marks on the street.

One could confuse it with holiday time. The road was crowded with cars that were completely packed, using every space to store something potentially useful. But the difference to holiday time was, that instead of happily expectant smiles, worry and fear was engraved in the faces.

"Aww, shit." Dickson mumbled.  
>Sitting up straighter and trying to look over the roofs of the cars in front of them, hoping to catch a glimpse of what caused this traffic jam. But all he saw was more cars. Hundreds of them aligned in front of them, beside them and, with a increasing rate, behind them too.<br>It seemed that every single one of the 400.000 residents of Colorado springs had decided to leave the city in this particular moment.

"Looks like were stuck." Mills summed up, made a grab for the cell phone in the glove box and continued: "Better give them at Schriever a heads up that we'll be late."  
>Upon seeing Cassies worried look through the rear view mirror, Dickson turned around in his seat and gave her a flat smile.<br>"Don't worry, they won't leave without you. Your mom would throw a fit."  
>"Yeah, she sure is stubborn." Mills added casually, a slow frown forming on his forehead as he looked at the cell skeptically.<p>

Having seen his partners confusion with the technical device, Mills turned his attention from Cassie to the man beside him.

"Something wrong?"  
>"Piece of shit doesn't work."<br>"Give it to me." Dickson quickly snatched the cell out of Mills fingers, dialed the phone number and held it expectantly to his ear.  
><em>Beep! Beep! Beep!<em> Then the line went dead.  
>"So?"<br>"Line's dead."  
>"Didn't I just say that?!"<br>"No. You said the cell didn't work."  
>"And that's different, how?"<p>

"Ehm, guys?" Cassie tried to halt the arimens bickering but they were so focused on each other that her voice never reached their ears.  
>"Snap to!" this time her words showed the desired effect.<br>They both turned slowly to her and had the grace of looking slightly guilty for their nonprofessional behavior. Now, that she was sure of her attendants alertness, Cassie pointed to something that happened in front of them.

Around their car the dynamic of the scenery had changed suddenly. More and more people climbed out of the delusory safety of their cars and stared at each other clueless. Some were already walking down the road to see what caused the agitation. Others accessed to old fashioned honking, earning them the annoyed looks of those who decided to stay in their cars. But it was not before a woman came running in their direction, disheveled looking, screaming at the top of her lungs and wildly pointing to something behind her, that the situation got out of hand.

It took a few painfully slow seconds before people started to act, but when they did, it was pure panic. Car doors were torn open. Panicked parents clutched their kids near as they ran. The cracking sounds of metal clashing against metal filled the air as some not so smart people tried to ram their way through the lines of parked cars. Others were climbing over the guard railing on to the opposite street, running blindly into the opposing traffic.

Inside the limousine, Dickson slammed his hands agitated on the steering wheel.  
>"What…the…hell!" Mills commentated, emphasizing every word incredulous.<br>They were both breathing heavily, obliviously undecided what to do.  
>"I'll take a look." Announced Dickson finally and tossed the useless cell phone at his partner.<br>"You sure that this is a good idea?" the other man replied, casting a look at their precious cargo at the backseat and gauging her mood. He had no experience with teenagers and if the little Fraiser would try something stupid, there better be four eyes to keep her in check.

But his companion seemed oblivious to this fears. Instead he fiercely took the safety of his gun and opened the car door.  
>"I guess we have no other choice. Stay put till I come back." Dickson instructed and stepped determined into the chaotic mass of running people, where they quickly lost sight of him.<p>

The minutes that followed were filled with oppressive silence as Mills fiddled with his own gun, nervously checking his watch every few seconds. The dull noise from outside that reached them trough closed doors and windows was getting louder still, causing the hairs on Cassies neck to stand up. She got the uneasy feeling that staying were they were was not safe and fought against her flight instinct.

"That takes too long." Mills mumbled after checking his watch again. With his head tilted to the side, he pondered their possibilities. When he opened the passenger door with the intent to follow his partner, Cassie released some of that banked up panic in a frightened shriek.  
>"Don't leave me!" she screamed. Hating that she sounded so babyish, but still grabbing a piece of Mills uniform over the seat to prevent him from leaving her behind.<br>"I'll be back soon. You're safe here." He tried to reason. But his openly displayed desire to flee belied his words.  
>"Please." The fear now creeping not only into her voice, but also into her eyes.<br>The man grit his teeth, torn between running for his life and the air force values. _Serve before self, _the harsh voice of his former instructor echoed in his head and Mills made his decision.

"Stay close to me." He instructed the girl as he wound his arm around her middle and used his bigger body to block them a way into the closely huddled mob of fleeing people. Not in the position to decide where to go, they let themselves float in the scared mass and tried to keep a grip at each other. The movement of the knot of people became more and more hectic. And it was so loud! Screaming, grunting, moaning and groaning all mixed together in a desperate and unhuman cloud of noise. Feeling utterly helpless and unprotected Cassie pressed herself tighter to Mills and tried to avoid the arms and elbows that the people around her used to move forward.

Only a few meters later, they both had fully lost their orientation. So, when Mills spotted a relatively clear path through the mass on the right he clutched Cassies hand tight and made a dash for it. But as fast as it had been there the path vanished again, replaced with what seemed like hundreds of people suddenly running in the different direction. The airmen and the girl had not enough time to prepare themselves for the impact. They both grunt out in pain as their bodys collided with the opposing persons. Stumbling clumsily backwards, she extended desperately her arms to find a piece of Mills uniform to hold onto.

She suddenly lost her footing and was stamped down by the madly fleeing people around her. Her first instinct was to curl into a tight ball to ward off the kicks coming her way. But she knew she had to move. If she didn't, they would stomp her to death. Painfully coming to her knees, Cassie didn't even bother struggling to her feet.

Instead she crawled in the vague direction of the guard railing separating the two opposing interstates, in hope for the opportunity to find some shelter there.  
>For dreadfully long minutes all she did see was the dirty street below her and the hundreds of legs and shoes around her, kicking and trampling her body. Finally the silver shining metal of the guard railing appeared before her and Cassie grabbed onto it. Mobilizing her last strength she pulled herself under the small space between road and railing. There she laid, allowing herself some much needed breaths of air.<p>

Beside her hundreds of people were still running and screaming, but their direction changed again. Abruptly the giant group parted frightened and revealed the most disturbing, shocking and horrendous thing she had ever seen.

Before her laid the lifeless form of airman Mills. His uniform was dirty and tattered. His limbs grotesque twisted. His eyes were lifeless and his facial expression seemed to be frozen in a moment of absolute terror. He seemed to be dead, at least Cassie hoped he was. Because he was not alone.

The breath caught in her throat and she could feel the cold sweat making its way down her temples. Beside him crouched a pale man, clad in filthy jeans and a bloody shirt. His hands were digging deep into Mills belly, ripping and tearing at the smeary and bloody organs and stuffing them in his mouth.  
>The man was smacking his lips pleasurably as he moved to shove his whole head into his victims body, gnawing at the bones he found there. Soon the pool of blood was so big, that it threatened to soak her own pants.<p>

Cassie tried to move, but her body wouldn't obey. She was held captive in her own body and on a steady way to hyperventilation. Stars were slowly forming before her eyes and the strange ringing in her ears was getting hard to ignore. Gradually loosing control over her body she wasn't able to stop the choking sound that escaped her mouth and provoked the attention of the panting and bloody man. He ended his dismantling of Mills body and staggered over to her. His body moved stiff and his limbs hung loosely from his torso. Head bobbing up and down, a viscous mixture of blood and saliva was dripping out of the wide opened mouth.

As her body eventually caught up with her mind, the fearful paralysis lessened and Cassie was able to move again. Still breathing too fast she crawled backwards and out of reach of this mans greedily outstretched fingers. The staggering figure tried to follow her, more stumbling and falling over the guard railing than climbing. This gave her a valuable time advance. Turning around she realized that the road leading into the city was almost deserted. Just a few sporadic cars sped past. The drivers possibly very aware of what was happening on the other side of the road and therefore not slowing down to help.

Cassie had no time to contemplate why the people on the jammed road were still running around wildly instead of using this part of the interstate to flee. Panic did strange things to otherwise capable brains. A gurgling breath behind her made Cassie aware again of her bloody pursuer and she ran.

Boundless relief flooded her when she saw a military truck standing on the parking lane with hazard warning lamps flashing. Hope pushing her forward she rushed towards the uniformed men emerging from the truck. She knew from the direction they had come from that they would drive back to Colorado springs and that meant away from her mother. But right now, Cassie did not care. She just wanted to get away from this nightmare. Thinking, that maybe she would wake up but not counting on it.

A/N: Finished tormenting Cassie…for now. Next chapter we see what Jack is up to. I don't think he will like it.


	4. Chapter 4, Part 1

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for taking so long but winter semester is really taking a toll on me. Exams are just one month away and 24 hours seem not enough for a day. This chapter is originally planned longer but I just can't find the time to sit down an finish it. So I decided to split it in two and give you the first part. I still plan to continuously write this story but I don't think I will have the time to update before I've finished all exams. But maybe you'll like a little forecast: next chapter will be the second part of this chapter; then Carter joins the fun in chapter 6 (she has to get rid of her fiancé and finds a new friend); what else? Oh yes, Daniel will be there too; If you are missing Tealc, I have sad news for you, because It will take quite a while for him to show up

So, I hope you will like it anyway.

PS: A professor of mine told us in a lecture that us silly humans need reactions from others to gauge our own behavior and maybe adjust it accordingly. So, wanna prove his point and tell me if you like it?

PPS: FUBAR BUNDY = Fucked up beyond all recovery, but unfortunately not dead yet.  
>This just fits the Walking Dead Universe like nothing else, methinks.<p>

Chapter 4: FUBAR BUNDY Part 1

This day had already started shitty and was now headed to totally fucked up in a remarkably fast rate. And it was not even noon yet. O'Neill was pretty sure that by evening, their situation would have morphed into _save your sorry ass if you can_. He stood on one of the watchtowers near gate five of Ford Carson, arms braced tensely against the railing of the observation deck. For the last hour the colonel had busied himself with supervising the incoming flood of refugees from this elevated position, wondering where to put them and simultaneously barking orders through the radio.

Since the rather edgy president had declared a state of emergency a few hours ago, it seemed that the floodgates were opened. In a matter of hours almost two thousands of freaked out residents of Colorado Springs and the near proximity had sought refuge in the base. Their cars glistening in the morning sun as they stood in line on the access road to the gate, nervously and jumpily waiting to enter the refugee camp.

But they were to many. That much was already clear.

He knew that. His soldiers knew that. Heck, he was pretty sure even the poor people of Colorado Springs, currently seeking protection in Fort Carson against whatever this was, knew that this could only be an interim solution. So, no one said a thing, but everyone knew. Everyone but the clown some idiot at the Capitol had made general and who`s real name was Kinsey. More precisely, two star general Robert Kinsey. Presently hiding in his office and letting his unfortunate secretary Walter negate the physical presence of his holiness Robert Kinsey the first. Formidably competent in ass kissing his way up the ranks, but pitifully bad in portraying anything resembling to the army values and thus lacking trust and respect from his soldiers. If you wanted a tip which bandwagon to jump on, Robert Kinsey was your man. But if you were looking for guidance and determination, he was definitely not a source of wisdom. The only good thing about Kinsey right now was that the man seemed to know about his incompetence in everything related to crisis management and therefore refrained from giving orders. Still, the general was the boss and sadly the only boss they had and god forbid even Jack, albeit very well versed in ignoring authority and bending rules as he pleased, didn't have it in him to run over the chain of command. Sooner or late he would have to talk to Kinsey, asking for useful orders and certainly getting nothing but empty words and dismissing gestures.

But he had no time to ponder the Generals cowardice. His radio crackled to life suddenly with a agitated voice calling for help. O'Neill recognized the speakers urgency immediately, although the transmission was meager, at best.  
>"This is Sergeant Wallace speaking, we need help!"<br>"O'Neill here, go ahead." Jack responded and tried to find the matching face to the voice and name coming through the radio. If he was not mistaken, there were only two Wallace's on the base. One of them was National Guard and therefore had been send out with his comrades hours ago to secure the city. That left only the Wallace that worked as male nurse in the hospital. Which meant trouble. Big trouble. Because that was where they had quarantined bitten people in hope of helping them, or at least keeping them separated from the rest of the base.

O'Neill had some experience with measures to contain an outbreak from his time spend in malaria infested areas in South Africa a few years back. Isolating infected people from those who were still healthy was number one in fighting a plaque. And it was exactly what Dr. Nick, head physician of Ford Carson's medical department, had been trying since the first contaminated man had set his foot on the army base. So, not the place you wanted to get an emergency call from.

The answer he received from Wallace was barely understandable. A frantic sequence of hurriedly spoken words sounding much to terrorized to be spoken by a supposedly well trained soldier.  
>"Sergeant Wallace, this is Colonel O'Neill, say again?" Jack inquired and tried to gain Kowalski's attention with a resolute wave. The major was positioned in front of gate 5 and tried to calm down the people still waiting, and begging, for entrance. He was supported by Captain Hanson who had, a little to threateningly in Jacks opinion, drawn himself up besides Kowalski and apparently used his very presence to keep the refugees in check.<p>

They were both in the process of quieting down a hysterical woman, when the major suddenly turned around and met his COs gaze. O'Neill and Kowalski had served so many years together, that they understood each other blindly. Literally speaking. It required just a small motion of the head towards the radio from Jack, and Kowalski understood the message.  
><em>Trouble ahead. Hold the fort. Talk to you asap.<br>_A lopsided sneer, combined with a nod, was the answer.  
><em>All right, boss. Have fun.<em>

This wordless communication took only a few seconds and Jack was fully concentrated on the radio by the time Wallace's voice drifted through again. Fortunately the sergeant seemed to have used the short time of radio silence to collect himself. His voice was much clearer now.  
>"This is Sergeant Wallace. I'm at the hospital. Someone just died and then…he came back and I…"Communication stopped again in a rush of incomprehensible static, but it was enough information to make O'Neill carry out a meticulous and gracile turn-around on the heels of his black boots. With quick strides he almost flew down the stairs of the watchtower. When he reached the final landing, Jack simply jumped over the handrail and ignored his vehemently protesting left knee.<p>

The poor soldiers and civilians who hat the bad luck to cross his path had just enough time to dodge the running colonel, as his sprinting figure disappeared in the direction of the hospital. He clearly knew that his behavior would be the source of further insecurity among the refugees. But the consequences that impended, now that someone on the base had returned from the dead, were far more dangerous than a few more freaked out civilians.

The Evans Army Hospital lay not far eastbound from gate five. The fact that Fort Carson had its own hospital had been one of the main reasons, that the refugee camp was now located within the bases walls.

O'Neill entered the three-floor building from the western entrance. On normal days the Evans was a bustling place. Thousands of soldiers came here every day to be examined, treated or otherwise counseled. Hundreds of doctors, nurses, orderlies, psychologists and chaplains took care of the military members and their families. But this was not a normal day. Far from it. So the clinics usually buzzing facilities were now quiet, deserted and abandoned.

Right after the first infected man had been admitted, Kinsey and Dr. Nick had decided to erect an isolation ward in the rooms of the ICU. Other patients were transferred to surrounding hospitals, most of them to the Air Force Hospital. It was a security measure to prevent the virus from spreading around and to quarantine already infected people. Surely Dr. Nick and his team hoped to keep the contagiosity as low as possible. But if you considered Sergeant Wallace's freaked out radio message, it sure seemed that those security procedures had failed. And badly so.

The steps of O'Neills heavy boots echoed unnaturally loud in the dark hospital floors. Purposefully striding to the stairway, he took two steps at once until he reached the second floor. Already the sounds of strained grunting could be heard. If the source was human or not, was not certifiable without indivisibility. As he pushed the door open with force, the handle banged against the wall and the impact let small shreds of white plastering rain down onto the grey linoleum floor.

The now louder grunting and groaning contrasted menacingly against the emptiness of the floor. He circled around the orphaned reception desk and turned right. Before him lay the ICUs entrance and his trained brain needed only seconds to comprehend the dimension of what he saw.

The big swing doors leading to the treatment rooms were closed. Two uniformed men, the insignia identifying them as Sergeant Wallace and an unknown MP, blocked the doorway using their weight as they braced against the quivering doors. They seemed to be in dire need of help, as they were forced back again and again. Obviously someone, or something, was clashing against the doors from the inside.

"What's going on?!" O'Neill demanded to know as he came to a stop a few meters in front of the men. Wallace and the stranger seemed infinitely relieved to see their CO, as a new impulse from the other side of the doors almost made them loose their footing.

"Colonel! We can't hold them back any longer!" screamed Wallace and as if to confirm his words, the boots of the two men moved squeaking across the floor as the slowly opening doors forced them back. Ash-grey fingers appeared through the emerging gap between the doors and groped around eagerly. Not thinking twice, O'Neil crossed the meters between him and the door and threw his body with everything he had against the wooden panels. A hollow bang could be heard as the swing doors jammed shut. The grey fingers that had been so busy a few seconds before, now stilled in motion as they were severed from the hand through the force of the impact and fell lifeless on the ground.

Jacks glance wandered around to find something to secure the doors. He found the MPs handcuffs and grabbed them from his belt. With his back against the shaking wood he applied the cuffs around the door handles and let the locks latch. The three stepped back in sync to test their impromptu blockade. Again the doors bucked up violently, but it seemed to work. For now.  
>Safe for the moment, Wallace took a deep breath and braced on his knees, while the MP leaned wearily on the wall. From the other side of the door heavy groaning reached them like a harbinger of death.<p>

"What the hell happened?" he wanted to know and stared at Wallace. The younger man gulped gravely as he struggled for breath.  
>"Not sure, Sir. I was just sedating a woman when I heard screams from the other room and then…" he stopped and shook his head doubtfully as he remembered.<br>"And then…?"encouraged O'Neill with a gentle nod.  
>"I left the room. It was all haywire on the floor. Everyone was screaming, doctors and patients. At first I didn't realize what happened. But then I saw them."<br>"Them?"  
>"Yes! The dead! Three guys. Had been admitted together. They were so badly scratched and bitten and running a fever. They were practically burning. We couldn't help them. Nothing worked." Again he paused to rub his temples. His breath was coming in short, vigorous waves and his eyes glazed over.<br>"I swear, they were dead! There was no way we could have known that they would transform so fast. I swear!" His panicked eyes strayed from the swaying doors to the tall figure of his CO.  
>"It's okay. I believe you. But you have to tell me everything." He assured and tried to gain the male nurses attention. O'Neill knew the first signs of a full blown panic attack when he saw them.<p>

A breath rattled in his windpipe as Wallace continued.  
>"Dr. Nick stood in the middle. He tried to calm everyone down. His back was to the room. He couldn't see them coming." Sobbing accompanied his next words. "Suddenly they were there. Just walking through the door. They swooped down on him. My god…they ripped him apart…I have never heard screams like that. When they were finished with him, they came for us." By now he was openly crying and big tears streamed down his face as Wallace swayed alarmingly.<p>

O'Neill and the MP leaped forward simultaneously and grabbed his arms before his knees sagged. He hung like a sack of potatoes between them. They helped him carefully to the floor where he curled into a ball and shook his head violently.

Jack couldn't blame him. It didn't need a rocket scientist to know what happened next. He decided to give the male nurse a moment to collect himself and looked at the MP.  
>"No survivors?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.<br>The other man shook his head grimly. "No, Sir. I came as soon as I heard the screams. But there were more than three of them. They were everywhere. I had just enough time to grab Wallace and get the hell out of there. It was close. We almost couldn't hold them back." Rubbing his right shoulder unconsciously he summed the events up and looked suddenly a lot more pale than a moment before.  
>"Good work." Commended the Colonel and examined the fresh blood trails on the wall. Right where the MP had leaned. His scrutinizing eyes lay on the suspicious shoulder.<p>

"Are you injured?"  
>The other man needed a second to realize that he was spoken to, but then he met the inquiring glance of his CO with a blank one.<br>Taking a step closer Jack clarified "Your shoulder."  
>"Oh…Just a scratch, Sir." It was meant to appease but backfired. No sooner than the words had left his mouth, he recognized the true meaning behind them an his eyes bulged in alarm.<br>"A scratch? From them?" O'Neill didn't like it, but he had to ask, while his guarded eyes never left the other man.  
>"No! Just an old wound. Nothing more. Really." The assertion appeared sincere but Jack couldn't count on it.<br>"Is it a bite?"  
>"No!"<br>"You sure?"  
>"Yes. Yes!"<br>For a moment they just stared at each other. The Colonel clinical and taxing, the MP tense and ready to flee.  
>"Let me take a look." Jacks order came with another step closer and the other man's reaction was prompt and vigorously.<br>"NO!"

This was all the answer the Colonel needed and the MP knew in the same instant that he had revealed himself. He drew himself up to his full height and raised his tightly clenched fists. Ready to defend himself. It was no problem for O'Neill to repel a blow that was driven by despair as it came. In a matter of seconds the bleeding man was overpowered and lay prone on the floor, arms twisted on his back and the Colonels knee pressing down on the tailbone. Immobile like that, the couldn't prevent that the collar of his uniform was pushed down to reveal the shoulder.  
>"Goddammit!" the other man cursed as he saw the bloody wound. It was definitely a bite.<br>"I'm okay. Sir! I don't feel sick. It doesn't even hurt!"  
>It wasn't easy to block out the tearstained begging, but Jack had to made a decision.<p>

How this virus thing precisely worked was still unclear. Although there had been a short briefing, the information content was uncertain. Gathered in the officer's mess, the nasally words of a little virologist had oozed more arrogance then useful facts. A doctor Robin? Randy? Ronald, no, Rodney! Dr. Rodney Mc…something. That he didn't keep much was not because he couldn't comprehend what the little guy in his too big white coat mumbled. It just tired him. All this juggling with too long scientific terms, combined with derogatory stares and snide remarks. So he had made good use of one of his most excellent skill. Zoning out through most of the blah blah blah but still getting the point.

How he understood things, this shit worked like this: you get a bite, or any kind of wound from these things, something _from them_ gets _in you_…you fucking die. And then you come back. But not as yourself. No, amigo! You'll come back a as a walking dead freak whose only goal was to make a big mess of ripping people apart.

Aside from the fact that the MP was in pretty deep shit, it may be theoretically possible that those eggheads would find a cure. But even if they did, it was more likely that the soldier transformed long before they could help him into a disgustingly drooling thing that wanted to take bite of you.

The MP was a dead man. Still, this wasn't easy. But he couldn't take the risk. The whole base was his responsibility, not just this one man. At the end, he had no other choice. Using cable ties that he carried around in his jacket pockets, something about being always prepared, he left the doomed man bound to a handrail.

Wallace followed him deadly silent and visibly shaken. The midday sun greeted them outside, warming their skin and almost mocking them, as the male nurse closed up to the Colonel.  
>"What now?" he wanted to know.<br>O'Neill looked him up and down thoroughly to assess what he could expect from the man regarding the last events. He seemed okay, but there was no way to know what was really going on in his head. The last hours events were a lot to stomach. Then again, their situation was unpredictable and he needed every uniformed man and woman. Especially one with medical knowledge. Now that Dr. Nick and his team was dead. Wallace would have to bite though…ouch, what a bad wordplay!

"Sergeant, I want you to go to the emergency accommodation. Help with the treatment if you can."  
>Jack wanted his order to sound notably strict and commanding. He hoped that it would help Wallace to slip back into his military routine. It seemed to work. The nurse raised himself up noticeably and gave a jagged salute. Then he jogged away, his footsteps a little groggy but still purposeful.<p>

Jack allowed himself one last glance towards the hospital before he chased away all gloomy thoughts about the bitten MP and mutated medics in the isolation ward. Brushing off the sweat on his brow he set into a jog deeper into the heart of Fort Carson. It was time to talk to the General. Kinsey had played hide and seek long enough. Like an ostrich he stuck his head into the sand and hoped that someone would solve his problems for him. But now he had to make a move himself. He WAS the General, after all.

In the administrative part of Fort Carson Sergeant Walter Harriman was intently shredding documents. Under the present circumstances of an impending pandemic one would think of this diversion as improper. But not Walter. He was loyal till the end and an order was still an order. For more than 15 years now he worked in this office. During this time he had served many Generals. He knew their preferences and annoying habits inside out and was prepared to follow their orders in hard times. What Walter was not prepared for, although it shouldn't surprise him, was Colonel Jack O'Neills furious face as he almost took of the hinges while storming into the office.

Walter felt never comfortable when in the presence of the Special Forces soldier. Firstly, the man had a really horrible sarcastic humor which led right to reason two. Because O'Neill had the annoying habit to show this cynicism preferably when in the same room with General Kinsey. A painfully obvious roll of the eye here or a rebellious snort there was enough to ruin the Generals mood for days. And guess who was left to carry the can for that? Right, him! And last but not least there were the Colonels stares. He had never met anyone with such a piercing glance. Whereas others needed a battery of words, O'Neill just used one of those brutally honest glances and you knew you were in trouble. Just like the one he wore now. One that clearly said: _You better not try to fool me. I know exactly what's going on._

Despite, or maybe exactly because of that glance, Walter pointedly stood up tall behind the solid presence of his desk and faced the angry Colonel with squared shoulders.  
>"What can I do for you, Colonel…" but he didn't get to finish the sentence as he was interrupted quite rudely.<br>"Don't bother. I'll manage."  
>Aware of the great discrepancy between O'Neills physical strength and his own he had no alternative but to watch the taller man violently tear open the door to General Kinsey's office.<br>Walter counted silently and just reached four as he was face to face with the displeased eyes of one Special Forces Colonel.  
>"Where is he?!" the man demanded to know and left no space for misunderstanding for who he meant.<p>

„The General is not here." Answered Walter and clutched a thick folder protectively to his chest. O'Neill seemed not to be satisfied with this answer and there was that glance again. Harsh, inquiring, stern and just a tad threading. It was a glance normally reserved for less respectable people like terror suspects, strayed informants or obstinate soldiers and now him, Walter Harriman, too.  
>"Oh? Well, where did the good General go?" behind the feigned politeness sarcasm screamed loudly.<br>"You missed him. The General left office 20 minutes ago."  
>"Oookay…but where did he go?"<br>"Something important came up and…"  
>"Ack! Don't give me that bullshit."<br>The colonel huffed and thrust an annoyed forefinger in his direction.  
>"Again, where…is…Kinsey?" With every emphasis of a word O'Neill came a step closer until his finger was tapping on the brown paper of the folder.<p>

Harriman felt sweat forming on his forehead as he stammered:"General Kinsey…well, I don't know where he is right now."  
>"But he is still one the base?" the question sounded suspiciously like a growl and Walter had to force himself to hold the Colonels glaze.<p>

"The General doesn't always bother telling me about his whereabouts or travel destination." He finally answered and realized in the same moment that he had spilled the beans. The Colonels triumphantly face confirmed it.  
>"Travel destination, huh? Pretty lousy time to go on a cruise? Whaddaya say?"<br>It was obvious that O'Neill expected the full story, now that he had found out that the General hadn't just called it a day. But the haggard Sergeant still wrangled with loyalty for his General. Sure, Kinsey wasn't the epitome of correctness or leadership ability. But he WAS the General and never in his military career had Walter refused a direct order. And the last one had been really precise: don't tell anyone, especially not O'Neill.

The tall colonel seemed to sense his moral dilemma and instantly some of that rugged harshness left his eyes.  
>"Look Walter, this is not the time for blind following. In case you didn't know, there is an apocalypse going on right now and I really need to talk to the base commander. Think you can help me with that?"<br>Harriman blinked astonished. He had never heard so many words leave the mouth of the otherwise uncommunicative man. Normally he preferred cynical one-liners or expressive glances for communication. In short terms, O'Neill was not what you would call a polite conversationalist. That he now felt the need to speak without his usually omnipresent sarcasm was a crystal clear sign that something ugly was about to happen. As long as the soldier was his grumbling, eye rolling self, everything was under control. But if he was civil or downright encouraging, big problems were ahead.

Was it so much worse than Walter thought? After all, General Kinseys departure had been spontaneous and felt somehow final. But the man loved being the boss, so what would make him leave his command like that? On the television they said that the military had the situation under control, but could they be lying? The General would have had access to more current situation reports and…oh god! Something in him wanted to scream as the pieces finally connected.  
>"General Kinsey is not attainable…he…"animated through O'Neills circling hand movement Walter continued, " He took our last available chopper and left for Schriever Air Force Base. He is about to be evacuated with other high ranking officers."<p>

He suddenly felt entirely empty as he collapsed into his chair. The brown folder slipped from his hand an landed rustling on the ground. Doubtfully peeking out from under the lenses of his reading glasses Walter studied O'Neill stomaching this latest information. A salve of powerful curses left his mouth. Or more precisely the most impressive arsenal of crude and blunt curses he had ever heard. But in the context that General Kinsey had left them to die while he saved his sorry…no, he couldn't possibly say that, a General was still a General and…and screw following the orders, his rebellious side kicked in. If Kinsey could abandon his men, he could as well call him an ass. There! Kinsey was an ass! So this ass had left them to die and Walter suddenly felt like cheering the cursing O'Neill on. But the man had already ended his rant and looked at him amused.  
>"Walter? Whatcha thinkin'?"<p>

"Nothing! Just…how bad is it? Are we really that deep in…a mess, Sir?"  
>"You can say it as it is. We ARE in pretty deep shit."<br>"How deep, Colonel?"  
>O'Neill sighed and rubbed a large hand over his face. But a second time he was interrupted by the radio's noise before he could think of a proper answer. Instead he just said what came to his mind.<br>"I guess we'll find out soon enough."


End file.
